


Mating Dance

by AgentP127



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Pining, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentP127/pseuds/AgentP127
Summary: Not that he would be approachable if he weren’t a magnificent alpha. Donghyuck is also a magnificent dancer and as such, Mark, as a lowly light technician, would never be able to catch his eye anyway. The two worlds are too different, too far away from each other. Mark was just some lighting nerd perched up on his highly risen scaffold, while Donghyuck was the most beautiful star the stage had ever seen, born to be respected and admired.Originally published: 17/07/19Heavily edited: 26/03/20





	Mating Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I've essentially rewritten this whole thing, same story very different words. 
> 
> I'm much happier with it.

Being an omega, Mark has certain attributes that are sometimes too alluring to alpha’s and beta’s alike; his scent too overwhelming, the curve of his smile too intriguing. Always _too much_ of something for wandering eyes to resist.

And Mark always feels the eyes.

The eyes that crawl over his skin for longer than they should, raking over his figure for longer than they need.

Having the blood of a thousand wolves coursing through his veins made acquiring the skill easy, effortless even. For his ancestors, and for every other living creature on the planet, to know when you were being watched was the same as learning to breathe; being without it would mean a quick end in a cruel world. But these are modern times, a supposedly civilised society where omegas are equals.

Which they are; until they’re not.

Until they’re once again _too much_ of something and need to be shown they’re nothing.

Until they need to be shown they’re a possession, something to win, a spoil of war that has no rights to their own being. No emotions that matter, no dreams to make reality. So even though alpha idealists would say having a hypersensitivity to one’s surroundings wasn’t a necessity in today’s world, Mark may disagree; especially in situations where backwards beliefs about hierarchy and honour smear themselves over modern _government approved values_ , leaving omega’s in a _supposedly_ distant past. There are always going to be those backwards imbeciles that define people by their secondary gender and abide by the outdated rules of a society dead and buried in the dirt.

It’s just a fact.

But the boundaries of an omega _are_ becoming limitless, _will_ become limitless as an unprecedented wave of equality wraps itself around the world, biting and tugging at the dark with its crooked and just teeth.

Mark’s parental omega always told him he could be anything he wanted. That being an omega shouldn’t keep him at any distance from his dreams, that he should reach out and take them with both hands, gripping tight and sure. But the wise omega also never let the advice go without warning, always telling Mark that there would be those that would view the world differently, and that being cautious can save a misery.

And Mark listened well.

He’s keeping misery at arm’s length while he chases his dreams with outstretched fingers.

He’s used his ability to survive. The tingle that creeps up his spine giving him warning, telling him he’s being watched, that someone’s ugly attention is on him and him alone, never wavering.

Thankfully, he’s made it to college. The odds were against him in a high school full of adolescent alpha’s trying to prove their worth, their hormones and inner wolves mixing into something rogue and vulgar; but he survived, and he’s done it. The cat calls and undesired touches have been left behind. The prospect of forced submission that would linger in every unused classroom and janitors’ closet now left in a world that seems so foreign and distant in Mark’s mind.

College is a welcomed reprieve.

Here, everyone seems less bothered by insignificant hierarchies of the past; the ones based on possession and bloodshed. The ones where every omega was breeding cattle for the taking. The people here are too focused on studying and cherishing their last moments of child-like freedom before being thrown into a world made of suit fabric and financial obligation.

Mark even auditioned for the drama society a couple of weeks into the semester, the freedom from acute suppression doing wonders for his confidence. Of course, he wasn’t to know that he didn’t quite enjoy being the centre of attention, his mouth going dry and his mind blank when he finally got his turn on the lit stage. But he tried, and no one can take that away from him. Luckily, he still found a new passion, an indirect link to the world he had tried to throw himself into.

_Stage crew._

He actually enjoyed setting up lighting; making shows come to life and letting the stars on stage shine as brightly as they could. And he wasn’t half bad at it either, some sixth sense of timing helping him along the way. If you ask Mark, he will say that that was the beginning of everything; the beginning of himself. Joining stage crew has given him friends he never knew he could have, has let him go to parties he never knew he could go to, and feel _feelings_ he never knew existed.

But even though joining the crew had already given him so many new experiences, there was something that he couldn’t attribute to his new passion.

The first time it happened he was holed away in the library desperately trying to read a dead text in a dead language, his tired eyes blurring the distinct and difficult cursive into something unreadable. It was subtle, and if he was concentrating any harder on the task at hand, he might not have even felt it; the tingle crawling through his skin, the little sparks dancing up his spine, the light coolness resting in his stomach.

Someone was watching, staring, their eyes at a distance far enough not to cause an alarm in Mark’s mind, but close enough to cause intrigue. However, when Mark inconspicuously raised his own tired gaze to identify the cautious intruder, the feeling instantaneously disappeared. His skin becoming unbothered, his heartbeat returning to normal as his stomach settled. It was confusing to say the least. Even as he moved his head from left to right to scan the library’s occupants, he found nothing of interest. No unwelcome alpha piercing his bones with their stare, no beta looking longingly in his direction.

Nothing.

He eventually attributed it to his male omega status being something of an oddity in this day and age, people always looked, it was just unusual for them to stop. Either way, his eyes eventually drifted back down to the now worn paper, his mind letting go of the unusual occurrence in favour of Latin and literary confusion.

But that wasn’t the end.

The subtle stare became more intense and less sporadic throughout the weeks until Mark couldn’t lie to himself anymore. It wasn’t his inner wolf betraying him, his fatigued body causing misunderstandings. The intruder’s eyes began to linger distinctively, leaving their own mark on his skin, not in a threatening or intimidating manner, it was just _unique_. It was also strange that no matter how hard Mark tried he would never catch the clandestine eyes. He had tried being subtle, trying his best not to alert the observer to his curiosity, and he had tried being direct, raising his head swiftly as soon as he felt the now familiar feeling in his body, but nothing worked. He was always left without answers, a coldness filling in the spaces.

Mark’s making his way to the auditorium, a well-worn route for Mark’s shoes, when his eyes catch the familiar figure of Jeno; the tall soft-eyed beta he calls his _‘best-stage-crew-friend’_. Mark was instantly lured in by Jeno’s calm and open demeanour, his serenity standing out in a chaotic world of scaffolding and electricity. He’s stood with his mate, Jaemin, a high energy alpha that fills the curves of Jeno’s mellowness until they make a complete and never-ending circle. Mark could say he isn’t jealous of how Jaemin fusses over the beta, making sure he has food for the long hours of rehearsals, whispering encouraging words on Jeno’s lips before he leaves a chaste kiss upon them; but that would be a lie.

Most people Mark knows have already found their life-mate, have already made plans for after graduation, have already found that person who will never leave their side, will care for them and protect them until the universe tells them they can’t. Mark sighs thinking of the only close calls with love he’s ever had; the fake confessions he would receive on April fool’s day in high school. He would always think they were true and honest, until he remembered the date, and then it would all crumble. There was always someone wanting to drag him down, pull him through a tunnel of thorns, hoping he’d stay there, where he _should_ be. It used to upset him, breaking his heart a little until his mum had reminded him that wolves were monogamous magnificent beings, only meant to have one mate in a lifetime, and that he’d find his soulmate one day and it would just _feel right._

The words always give Mark hope.

He isn’t unwanted, he’s just waiting to be wanted by the right person. So, seeing Jeno and Jaemin’s public display of affection only makes his heart stagger a little, it doesn’t shatter on the floor in despair as it might without the affirmation he treasures so dearly.

‘Look, Mark’s here I have to go Jae.’ Jeno attempts to whisper, his words coming out louder than he perhaps wanted.

‘Fine, but text me when you get bored.’ Jaemin petulantly replies before reluctantly removing his hands from Jeno’s shoulders and snapping his head towards Mark. ‘This is your fault.’ He hisses before dramatically walking off, the sound of a disgruntled huff lingering in the air.

‘What the hell?’ Mark mumbles through barely parted lips as his confused eyes linger on Jaemin’s rapidly retreating form.

‘Don’t worry about him,’ Jeno speaks between a breathy laugh, ‘his rut’s coming up, it’s separation anxiety or something.’ Mark makes a hum of affirmation before clearing his furrowed brow.

‘Other than that, you two still seem to be as in love as ever.’ Mark says casually as he makes his way through the auditorium doors.

‘Of course!’ Jeno proudly states, not grasping the negative undercurrents of Mark’s words.

Mark’s eyes sweep across the stage to see the dancers stretching and warming up, his attention too far from Jeno to even acknowledge the reply.

He’s looking for someone.

A particular someone he’s been looking for every time he’s entered the auditorium in recent weeks. He doesn’t even realise he’s being spoken to until Jeno’s waving a hand in front of his face.

‘Still a resident in fantasy land I see.’ A flash of offence slides across Mark’s features as his brain reconstructs Jeno’s words inside his mind, but he manages to quickly steel himself

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He rushes out as nonchalantly as he can before briskly walking to his lighting scaffold and climbing atop.

‘Are you sure you shouldn’t have stuck it out with drama? Because you’ve been playing the role of _‘love struck but in denial’_ student for quite some time now. I mean method acting is all the rage and you have it down, you’d be in high demand Mark.’ Jeno replies, the shit-eating grin he has plastered on his face shining through the words. 

‘Shut up.’ Mark snarls in response, not even bothering to acknowledge Jeno with a look as he does. 

‘Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about _and_ stop being a pussy and go talk to him for god’s sake. I’ve had enough of you pining from your gremlin perch these past few weeks.’

Jeno’s right.

Mark knows exactly what Jeno’s talking about _._ He’s talking about Mark’s crush on one Lee Donghyuck, one of the lead dancers of the show they’ve been rehearsing for the past four weeks. Mark’s had crushes before, but only fleeting little things that fizzled out after a few days, or when he actually heard them speak and they turned out to be nothing like the version of them he’d conjured up in his head. But this is different, it isn’t used up mentos sinking at the bottom of a flat coke bottle, it isn’t a daydream of a man inside his brain whispering sweet nothing’s only to find he’s a badly forged copy in real life. This is _Lee Donghyuck_ and he’s every bit as funny and genuine as Mark had decided he was when he first laid eyes on him.

He’s maybe not a clear alpha physically, his strong muscles lean and hidden under sweatpants and hoodies when he’s not dancing. But despite that, his glistening skin and soft curved features never fail to pull Mark in, entrancing him whenever he moves close enough for Mark to see. Although Donghyuck could be mistaken for a beta on first glance, it becomes obvious he’s an alpha when he’s in his element. When he’s moving across the stage with determination and purpose, an aura of authority rolling off him in waves as his strength shines through.

And because of all this, Lee Donghyuck is unapproachable in Mark’s omega hazed eyes.

Not that he would be approachable if he weren’t a magnificent alpha. Donghyuck is also a magnificent dancer and as such, Mark, as a lowly light technician, would never be able to catch his eye anyway. The two worlds are too different, too far away from each other. Mark was just some lighting nerd perched up on his highly risen scaffold, while Donghyuck was the most beautiful star the stage had ever seen, born to be respected and admired.

Mark sighs, his neck going limp, his head lolling forward in defeat.

‘I can’t do that. You know I can’t.’ Mark softly says, his words covered in sadness and dejection. ‘Look at him, and look at me. Jeno, we’re in different worlds. He’s all him, and I’m all… well me.’ He says as he turns to face his friend. Mark’s crestfallen expression isn’t a sight Jeno had expected to see after all the teasing Mark had put up with the last few weeks. It pulled on something inside Jeno’s being, making him let out a sigh of empathy as he awkwardly shuffles towards Mark. 

‘Look, you don’t know if you don’t try, hmm?’ Jeno tries softly.

‘I wouldn’t even make it close enough to find out his scent Jeno. I’ll save myself from the embarrassment and just wait until this whole crush thing passes.’ Mark replies, the sadness in his voice replaced by something more metal, something steelier, leaving an odd feeling in Jeno’s chest.

Exam season is kicking Mark Lee’s ass.

It’s a fact.

He’s currently in the library, headphones in, highlighter in hand, trying desperately to understand this godforsaken ancient poem he doesn’t even remember the name of. He’s failing miserably, and even though his concentration is fading he’s still surprised when one of the music blasting pieces is forcibly removed from his ear.

‘What’s a whore like you doing in the library? You don’t need an education to lie there and take it.’ The stranger sniggers, a disgusting scent of disgrace wafting straight to Mark’s nose _._ Mark’s not had the misfortune of meeting one of _these_ since high school. One of those self-righteous, conceited, self-confidence issue kids. Those people who can’t find confidence in themselves, so they have to push others down to rise above. The more you think about it the sadder it becomes. But Mark has had his fair share of less than polite interactions.

‘What’s an asshole like _you_ doing in the library? You know you have to be literate to get the most out of the books, right? There aren’t many pictures in these ones.’ Mark retorts with equal vigour, waving the well-worn anthology in his hands in front of the intruding alphas face for emphasis. The move probably didn’t rank high on _‘Mark Lee’s list of bright ideas’_ but it’s nearing midnight and he’s been here for hours without a break or any real food, a protein bar and a pack of Cheetos don’t count. The alpha’s too quick for Mark’s sleep deprived state and Mark suddenly finds his chin held fast in a tight grip, the alpha’s rough fingers pulling harshly against his delicate skin until there’s mere millimetres between their faces.

‘Oh, one of the feisty ones I see.’ The unnamed alpha hisses through a smirk, evidently amused by the turn of events, pleased he has the upper hand.

‘You, out.’ Mark hears from somewhere close by, the alpha in front of him blocking his view. The alpha slowly turns his head, refusing to relinquish Mark from his grip.

‘I said out.’ The library attendant snarls once again, their angered scent dominating the space. The intruding alpha scoffs at the demand pushing Mark’s face forcefully away from him before releasing his grip.

‘I was just leaving.’ He spits, before grabbing what Mark assumes is his own backpack and storming out of the library, pushing a tall pile of papers off a desk along the way.

It’s been a long time since an incident like that’s happened, but in Mark’s stressed and fragile state, he can’t help but let it get to him, his mind racing with all the other times alpha’s have violated his space and spat on his rights. He slams his book closed with an angry push of air through his nose. It’s late and he knows he’s not going to get any decent work done anymore, he’s going home.

The thoughts are slowly dissipating as he walks the quiet streets back to his dorm, the rhythmic beating of his shoes on the pavement a distraction. But the feeling of anger still remains, his body refusing to let go of the heat, of the injustice. His kind keep the population growing, without them, without _him,_ that self-righteous bastard would have never even been born. It’s when he’s debating whether it would be better if the world were only omega’s that he feels it once more.

He feels _the eyes._

A shudder makes its way through his body, his already aroused senses intensifying the normally tolerable feeling.

He’s never been followed home by them before.

He’s never had his privacy violated like that before.

The usually inquisitive and somewhat warm starer keeping their distance, watching from afar, never intruding. But Mark’s in no mood to accommodate his _fan_ today, he gives a swift shake of his shoulders in an attempt to brush them away despite them being nowhere near him, hoping they understand the gesture. He just wants to be alone, unobserved as he works through the anger the clear alpha who continues to watch him will never understand. Mark picks up the pace as a brittle howl of wind wracks his body, but even so, the eyes follow and the tension inside his body rises with it.

To breaking point.

Mark stops still in the street, the yellow light from the overhead streetlamp casting odd shadows over his twisted face.

‘Stop.’ He growls, his fingers curling into angered fists inside his pockets. ‘I know you’re there, you’re _always_ there.’ He continues, his voice getting louder as he loses his composure. ‘Just leave me alone.’ He finishes.

The omega within him is screaming and pleading for him to run, the possible consequences of his actions streaming through his mind as he smells a faint scent of vinegar, the sourness tickling his nose. But before he can lift his feet to make his escape there’s a shift.

Things seem different.

He hears a faint whimper, the wind making it impossible to decipher the direction from which it came, then there’s nothing. There’s no eyes, no invisible companion.

There’s just Mark.

Just Mark in the middle of a deserted street at one am.

Alone.

It’s been days but he still feels uneasy. He’d grown accustomed to being under the watchful eye of an unknown alpha. It’s true what they say, you never know what you have until it’s gone. Mark realises that it was oddly comforting always having someone by his side, and even though he never knew who it was, they were never a threat. More like a friend.

It’s lonely.

He’d just always assumed he’d be pleased when his uninvited guest disappeared, leaving him to feel free, unsuppressed, lighter. But instead he feels isolated and alone, hollow and dazed for the majority of his waking hours. Perhaps that’s how he’s ended up in a foreign part of town, his apartment building nowhere in sight as he turns himself, trying to figure out where he’s ended up. He must have taken a wrong turn in his dream like stupor and ended up here, a few scattered warehouses, kicked in doors and smashed windows filling his vision.

He pulls his phone out to try figure out exactly where he is and make his way home, but as he does a scent fills his lungs.

It’s strong and close.

It’s unknown.

It’s alpha.

He’s in an unknown territory with an unknown alpha, for all Mark knows, he’s trespassing.

He jams his phone back into his pocket, spinning on his heel to try find an exit before he finds himself in real danger. But in reality, it’s too late. He comes face to face with the exact person he wants to run from.

He falls to the ground, his inner wolf screaming at him to leave, his body desperate to comply trying hard to ignore the pain emanating from his face. Through tear-blurred vision he can make out a wall close by, his brain telling him to go, shelter. He barely makes it to his hands and knees before he feels a surge of cramping followed by flames of agony in his abdomen. The air from his lungs evaporates as his body hits the dirt once more.

He hears a high-pitched laugh from above.

‘I don’t take kindly to slutty omegas passing through my territory.’ The alpha spits, unadulterated disgust dripping from her every word. ‘What the fuck are you doing here _omega_?’ Mark tries to speak, his lips moving, but only spluttered noises filter their way through. ‘Aww, poor puppy.’ The woman mocks with faux concern in her voice, ‘Don’t worry your pretty little face, I’ll help you leave.’ She says before grabbing Mark by the neck and hauling him to a standing position, his feet barely scraping the ground by the time she finishes the movement.

‘It’s fine, you won’t be here for much longer.’ She continues, before slowly letting her claws crawl out from her fingers, a sadistic grin plastered across her face as she does. Mark barely even feels them pierce his delicate skin, his quickly dwindling oxygen supply augmenting his reality. He tries to pry her fingers from their place on his throat, but his attempt is weak, his arms feeling heavy as his eyes begin to close against his will. He still hears it though, the unmistakeable growl of an angered wolf. He isn’t sure who it belongs to. For all Mark knows it could have been himself, his body seemingly out of his conscious control.

His legs make contact first, a numb feeling of pressure as they make contact with the ground, but then his head lands, and he feels the pain. There’s pain in his lungs, his legs, his head. It’s just pain and breathing. His body is still out of his control, his arms working themselves along the ground towards shelter before his mind can even comprehend what’s going on. Subconsciously he _knows_ there’s something going on behind him, but that’s not his concern right now.

_Breathe._

_Shelter._

_Safe._

He feels his surroundings settle into something more silent, not necessarily calm, but definitely more motionless as his back presses hard against the rough brick of the building behind him. He can sense someone coming closer, muffled steps making their way towards where he sits curled in on himself, his eyes tightly squeezed shut.

His inner omega knows.

It knows he can’t outrun an alpha in his current state, and even if he were healthy right now, they were too close for him to get away.

It’s useless to run.

He hopes whoever this alpha is just takes pity on his shaking form and leaves him to petrify in his place.

But luck is not on his side.

The sound of a familiar wounded whimper pricks at his ears, his mind trying to place the sound he’s heard before. It takes a few seconds, but that’s when he knows he didn’t imagine anything, and it wasn’t the wind whistling in his ears a few nights ago.

He’s finally going to come face to face with his incessant follower, the oddly comforting, strange being that’s kept themselves hidden for so long. Mark’s heart rate picks up, the fear of the unknown taking hold. The whimpers become louder, more frantic as the unknown alpha creeps closer, clearly trying to hold themselves back from crowding Mark in his vulnerable state. But Mark can’t help but tense his body even more, his fingers becoming numb as they grip tightly against his own thighs. His omega is telling him to play dead, too frightened to know the truth in front of him.

_An alpha is a threat._

But once again, it’s too late. The alpha is right in front of him, their ragged breath moving Mark’s hair in an imitation breeze. Mark’s own breath stills as he feels them move closer, their fingers curling tightly around Mark’s biceps as something cold touches the skin on his neck.

He’s paralyzed.

Frozen until he recognizes a feeling; hair brushing against his cheek. The alpha is nuzzling his wounds. It’s sweet until they begin to forcefully nudge Mark’s head up with their own, wanting better access to his neck.

Mark’s wounded. Physically _and_ mentally. Opening his eyes would be to acknowledge the events that just occurred. But his omega _needs_ to be comforted. It _needs_ to be doted upon, to be taken care of, to be _protected_.

The sounds of distress only intensify as Mark continues to resist, but his inner wolf is arguing with itself whether it’s safe to succumb to the stranger’s request.

_Is this stranger safe?_

But Mark himself can’t take it much longer, he’s tired and weak, and he so badly wants to get out of here. He takes control and throws his head back until it hits the brick behind, the pleasantness of the stretch and the cool air he can now breathe outweighing the pain of the contact.

Mark keeps his eyes closed, but he lets the alpha in. He lets them in and in response he hears even more pained and drawn out whines in his ears, high pitched and rushed. Mark can hear the alpha struggle for breath between the constant stream. It pulls and twists his insides to hear it, forcing silent tears to fall from his still closed eyes.

Mark feels something sturdy but soft touch his nose, a warm uneven breeze on his lips.

The alpha is _comforting_ him, rubbing their nose gently against Mark’s, silently asking permission.

And Mark doesn’t even have to think before giving it. He shifts his head slightly to rub back, letting the alpha know it’s okay, what they want to do is _okay._

And the alpha takes it from there.

They rush forward frantically rubbing their face against every visible patch of the omega’s skin, their hands moving just as rushed over Marks clothed arms and legs. Mark sighs into the touch, his body beginning to relax. He wants to open his eyes, to see his rescuer, the _eyes_ he’s been intrigued to meet; but a wave of fatigue rolls over him, and try as he might they remain closed, his mind slipping from consciousness in seconds.

He wakes in a wooded area, his clothes slightly damp from the grass beneath him. Streams of light bleed through the darkness, the clouds in the sky turning a blended mix of deep blue and faint orange, the sun encroaching on an unfamiliar horizon. Mark turns his head to the side to see he’s in a clearing free from trees, purple and blue flowers surrounding him.

This is someone’s territory.

As Mark takes in the scene through bleary eyes, the memories of last night filter through his minds eye. His breath hitches at the thought, his hand shooting up to his neck expecting to find torn and broken flesh, but instead he feels something smooth and soft. It’s been tended to, a dressing carefully placed. Mark’s omega rises within, internally swooning at the act of care. He turns his head to the other side, wanting to gain his bearings, but once again, it’s something he doesn’t expect.

Lee Donghyuck.

Mark’s favourite dance lead, the object of his invisible affections, is curled on his side, asleep. Close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not so close to invade Mark’s personal space. It’s just right. A wave of butterflies washes over Mark’s entire body at the sight. Mark’s finally close enough to figure out his true scent, untainted by fragments of blood and anguish.

It’s sweet, like mango juice on a summer’s day.

He looks like heaven too, his soft light brown hair fluttering in the cool breeze, plump lips slightly parted, letting small puffs of air escape before dragging more back in. Mark shifts so he’s mirroring his companions’ position. But the movement disturbs the boy with _the eyes,_ waking him with a start. He instantly locks his gaze with the omega, a warm familiarity spreading through Mark’s bones as he _stares_.

The gaze that had been unknown for months is finally named, and the breath that Mark didn’t even know he was holding is slowly released.

‘Hey.’ Donghyuck whispers, his voice thick from slumber.

‘Hey.’ Mark intelligently replies with equal softness.

‘So… how’s your neck?’ Donghyuck timidly asks, his voice still soft but more unsure.

‘It’s fine, I think.’ He lifts his fingers to his wound once more, hissing when he presses harder than he should have. Donghyuck whimpers at the action, itching to reach out, but he quickly retracts his hand the inch it had instinctively moved.

Mark’s insides melt. 

_Respect._

‘I know it’s you.’ Mark begins, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the confrontation he’s instigating. ‘I know you’re the one who’s been… _watching_ me.’ He gulps painfully before shifting slightly to avert his gaze away from Donghyuck’s.

Donghyuck is still an alpha after all. He may be the very cute, very attractive one of Mark’s dreams, but, he’s an alpha nonetheless.

‘I don’t know why you started, but I can guess why you stopped. I’m sorry for snapping at you before, I didn’t know who you were.’ Mark more or less mumbles before cautiously raising his gaze once more to judge Donghyuck’s reaction. Perhaps unexpectedly, he’s met with round sorrow filled eyes, an unwritten apology within them before Donghyuck shifts them away.

‘I just thought you were beautiful and couldn’t stop myself.’ Donghyuck admits, adding a verbal apology to the end of his words. Mark’s shocked to say the least. ‘I guess I got carried away. I saw you leave the library when I was passing by and took it as an opportunity to find out your address…’ Donghyuck pauses, his body stiffening at the sound of his own words. ‘I know that sounds creepy.’ Donghyuck rushes out, turning himself to the omega once more, his brows raised and eyes shining. ‘This isn’t going well.’ Donghyuck grumbles to himself more than Mark. ‘I just… I just wanted to know where you lived so I could leave you a courting gift.’ Donghyuck finally gets out, his voice barely audible. ‘I didn’t mean to annoy you.’ He takes a steadying breath, letting his head lower a little as he does. ‘I’ve never dated before, so I didn’t really know how to do it I guess.’

‘What?’ Mark breathes out. He’s equally perplexed and shocked. Firstly, how could this beautiful being before him have never dated before? Have never been the sole object of someone’s affection before? He’s graceful and strong, passionate and delicate all at the same time.

The perfect alpha.

And secondly, why would this perfect being be interested in the lighting nerd from stage crew?

‘I said, I didn’t mean to annoy you.’ Donghyuck repeats, cowering in on himself a little, his voice smaller than before if it were even possible.

Mark slowly lifts his hand and hooks his fingers gently under Donghyuck’s chin in response, he isn’t going to waste an opportunity presented to him. He slowly raises Donghyuck’s head until the boy begrudgingly locks his eyes with Mark’s.

Mark knows, he just _knows_.

He looks straight into those deep brown eyes, the ones decorated with flecks of red, and hopes beyond hope that Donghyuck knows too.

Mark leans in, slowly inching closer waiting for the alpha to assert dominance over the movement. And he doesn’t have to wait long before Donghyuck’s eyes become hooded, his gaze zeroing in on Mark’s lips, his intentions clear.

They’re meeting halfway.

‘Wait.’ Donghyuck hastily whispers, snapping out of his lustful stupor. He seems panicked, gripping on to Mark’s shirt with both fists. ‘What about the steps?’ he rushes out, searching Mark’s eyes for an answer, who only chuckles at the sweet purity of it all.

‘I think saving my life means we can skip the steps for now Donghyuck.’ Mark responds through a small laugh.

Lips press against lips.

It’s exactly what Mark’s been waiting for. 

‘No Mark! No more kissing or even _touching_ until we’ve completed the courting steps… don’t give me those puppy eyes… don’t growl at me either, you heathen!’

**Author's Note:**

> Please god someone comment.
> 
> If you want updates as to what's coming next with my writing follow my twitter! 
> 
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